


Beg For It

by pherede



Series: Livewrites [6]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Begging, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherede/pseuds/pherede
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin makes Thranduil ask for what he wants. A smut snippet written for a livewrite prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beg For It

“Tell me what you want,” says Thorin, although he _knows_ , he is perfectly able to guess. It’s just that he wants to hear it; he wants to hear Thranduil say it, and see the flush of shame creep up that white throat.  
  
“I want... I want your mouth,” says Thranduil, his voice very quiet, as if he fears someone will overhear.  
  
“My mouth doing _what_? Smiling? Speaking?” Thranduil’s hands clutch in Thorin’s hair, helpless and desperate; if Thorin presses him, Thranduil will break, and it’s all Thorin wants, to hear him beg.  
  
“Please,” says Thranduil, nearly growling, dark hunger building in his voice, and he struggles to articulate: “Please, your mouth, on my-- on my cock--”  
Thorin presses an extremely chaste kiss to the tip of Thranduil’s cock, which is achingly hard and weeping, and Thranduil groans with frustration and torment. “Is that what you want,” says Thorin, gloating, not even caring to disguise it.  
  
“More,” says Thranduil, and when this only gains him a few more soft kisses up and down his length he groans as if the air is being torn out of him and begs: “Your mouth _around_ my cock, please, ah Elbereth; your tongue, lick me, _please_.”  
  
It’s better; it’s still not enough. Thorin tantalizes him with slow strokes, delicate licks, soft suction, until Thranduil is mewling under him, gasping, thrusting for friction. “Tell me,” says Thorin, and Thranduil is too far gone for shame.  
  
“Suck me,” he says, breath coming in stabs; “suck my cock, press your tongue into me, pull me with your hands, I want to-- I want to fuck your throat--”  
  
“Ask nicely,” says Thorin, though he wants to obey as he has never wanted anything else.  
  
Thranduil resists, though he can hardly hold back the sounds that pour out of him, whimpers and small crying pleas; Thorin sucks a finger for a few moments to wet it, then presses at Thranduil’s opening, a thing that Thranduil has never allowed him before. “ _Ask_ ,” he says, letting dark force snarl in his tone, and Thranduil cries out and his arsehole twitches, hungry for that pressure.  
  
“Please, please _please_ ah please suck me, please, anything you want, only please suck me,” and the babbling goes on in hysterical distress as Thorin presses his finger _inside_ and lets the muscle relax and stretch around it, Thranduil pleading the whole time and offering half-imagined acts of depravity if only, if only Thorin will suck him, if only he can fuck Thorin’s mouth.  
  
Thorin works two fingers into him before he gives in to the begging, and he scissors his fingers as he takes Thranduil’s cock into his mouth, letting the burn build with the sudden tide of pleasure, sucking hard and fast and working his throat and mouth as his fingers stretch Thranduil’s hole; and so wrought with desperation is the elvenking that Thorin feels him go tight and rigid after only a few moments, contracting around his fingers, gasping in shallow panicked sips of air until he spills down Thorin’s throat.  
  
Thorin does not withdraw his fingers, instead reaching for the vial of oil at his bedside; and Thranduil shifts around him, eyes wide, understanding at last what he has bargained for in his pleasure.  
  
“It will not hurt,” says Thorin; “I will prepare you slowly, and when you are ready and hard again you will be open and eager for me.”  
  
Thranduil lies shivering like a bird in a hunter’s hand; clearly he does not believe that there will be pleasure in this for him, and Thorin laughs to think of his discovery, burns with the need to teach Thranduil his own body. “I think,” he adds, as he slips another finger carefully inside, “that I will make you beg me for this too.”


End file.
